


My Big Fake Ninja Wedding

by nagia



Series: those that marry dawn and noon [1]
Category: Rurouni Kenshin
Genre: F/M, Ninja Paranoia/Romcom Tropes
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-03-20
Updated: 2013-05-03
Packaged: 2017-12-05 22:43:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,368
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/728733
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nagia/pseuds/nagia
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>How the paranoid ninja leader of a paranoid ninja organization gets married: or, a practical lesson in Why We Do Not Listen To Okon.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Aoshi waits a season after he and Misao have returned from the mountains, content to let Okina's network supply information. And while it was more than satisfactory for Himura's purposes, a season past, it does not suit his.

There are certain matters to settle: closing down the routes by which Kanryuu acquired his gatling gun, removing the means by which Shishio obtained his firearms — if his methods weren't connected to Kanryuu's smuggling ring — and ending any schemes Gein may still have had.

But Okina's information network does not have the required inroads into Tokyo or Yokohama. And if he wants information from the police, he'll have to resort to either breaking into a police station or finding the right officer to bribe.

Aoshi does not wish to do either of those. The former has the potential to attract too much attention, while the latter would be far too time-consuming.

He begins to ponder other options.

* * *

A week later, Omasu rests a slim envelope on the table before him, next to a bowl of thin green tea. She bows, murmuring appreciation of his patronage, and retreats. All a charade for the benefit of the other guests.

Aoshi opens the envelope at the table, as if it's a bill. He doesn't bother trying to disguise the way his eyebrow twitches — anyone watching will assume he's been over-charged, as so often happens in Kyoto ryokan.

Four meagre lines. Four.

He cannot stop himself from drawing parallels: four shots to his legs, four men he lost to Takeda Kanryuu.

A four line report is not enough.

* * *

"It's time," Aoshi says later that night, safely tucked away with Okina, Shiro, and Okon in the business office on the second floor. Kuro and Misao are preparing dinner, while Omasu serves the Aoi-ya's only guests.

Shiro and Okon both stare at him as if they have no idea what he's talking about. Okina simply strokes his hand along his goatee, deep in thought.

"To rebuild the Oniwabanshuu," he tells Okon and Shiro, folding his arms across his chest in response to the questions of logistics that his mind now swims in.

There's the question of putting the word out. The reformation of a ninja group isn't something one advertizes. And after so long, how many will be looking for the message?

There's also the question of re-assigning teams when the Oniwabanshuu has been all but disbanded for eight years. Okina will have destroyed much of his information on his operatives by now, for their collective safety. Time will have rendered what survives — his own memory, primarily — inaccurate at best.

Okina unties the ribbon from around his goatee, waits a moment, and then reties it. "I assume you'll choose the Aoi-ya as your base of operations?"

"For now."

Okon claps her hands together once. Her eyes hold a glitter Aoshi doesn't trust; the hunted expression that crosses Shiro's face only makes him warier.

"That's quite a lot of overjoyed former operatives descending onto this poor inn," Okina says.

"You assume they'll have been waiting for this news."

More likely, the first action of what teams he assembles will be to seek out their former brethren.

Okina's eyes glint as well. "You were a well-loved leader, Aoshi. And you surely don't imagine  _all_  of us re-integrated as well as these four?"

"That was my understanding."

"For the men, I'm sure that's true," Okon's voice has gone soft, regretful. "But it isn't so easy for women. It's hard to marry, after — years of active duty. And it's hard to live without being married, once you're a certain age."

Shiro nods agreement. "Wind the threads around the trees, raise the banners in the lookouts... they'll come in droves."

"We're going to need an excuse," Okina says. "An explanation for why so many people come to see us in such a short time frame."

Okon lets out a sparkling laugh. It draws all eyes toward her — even more quickly than usual. Aoshi remembers too well the edge that undercut that laugh when she forced it. That edge isn't present: she's genuinely amused. More than amused.

"Something to share, Okon?" Okina raises an eyebrow.

Okon covers her mouth with one hand to stifle a few chuckles. At length, she drops the hand and says, "There are only two things women travel for in any number."

Aoshi doesn't bother to hide the way one eyebrow twitches.

Okon looks at him for a moment. Her lips curve into a wicked smile, the sort that she once used to lure in targets, once appearing as an ingenue became more difficult.

He tenses, automatically steeling himself for some impossibly irritating riddle, or possibly a harebrained scheme. He remembers too many of her plans from their childhood.

"And those things are?"

She chuckles one last time, not bothering to hide it, and says, "A girl's wedding or the birth of a family member's first child."

That leaves Shiro stunned, but Okina wears a thoughful look that Aoshi mistrusts. He's seen that look too many times, and whatever Okina's plotting...

Aoshi intervenes. "You intend to fake a pregnancy?"

That sparkling laugh sounds again, just as loud and attention-capturing and genuine as before. This time it's aimed specifically at him. He sets his jaw in response to it.

" _I_ ," she says, "don't plan on faking anything."

"Are you already pregnant?"

Shiro chokes on his tea. Okina laughs heartily, as if he's been saving it up throughout the conversation. Okon just looks scandalized.

Ah, yes, Okon always did pride herself on avoiding such complications.

"I was talking," she says, with just a hInt of annoyance in her tone, "about a wedding. We'll stage a wedding."

Aoshi raises an eyebrow at that. There are three women in the household. Only Misao is of an age that getting married would be a production involving extended family.

And Misao is not getting married.

"It's perfect," Okon says, then rattles off a list of names, none of which he recognizes, and requests she'll make of them. After a moment, at the stares of the men around her, she adds, "It'd explain everything. And Misao will be overjoyed!"

Misao is not getting married. Why does Okon think otherwise?

The sheer wrongness of the idea leaves him unable to speak. She's proposing to marry Misao off? And yet she claims to care about her. Care deeply for her. How could she propose such a thing so easily?

His attempts to gather a rebuttal argument leave him wondering about his own motives for objecting so strongly. It's clear that Misao would never agree to marry someone else... isn't it? Has he deluded himself into thinking so, simply because he could not stand to see her marry another?

No. He trusts his senses. It's been perfectly obvious to him for a season; he hasn't imagined it.

"Not an option," he says.

Okon looks at him, clearly startled. It's not often someone interrupts the momentum of her plans. Certainly Shiro never did, and neither Omasu nor Kuro ever truly had the strength of personality to override her.

It always did end up being him. Him or Hannya, and sometimes both of them.

"It's the best of our options. Otherwise we'll just have to smile it off, and nobody in this town would ever believe that," she says. "And it explains you! Makes me so glad the rumor that you're Okina's son never did catch on. I  _told_  Omasu that one was doomed, but no!"

Now it's his turn to stare.

"I meant marry you, Aoshi-san," she says. "You didn't think I would ever marry her off to someone else, did you?"

Aoshi ignores the question. "I've been back for less than a year, and you think she should marry me?"

"I suppose, on a private level, the timing might not be perfect, but think practically about this."

He is thinking practically. He very nearly points this out.

Shiro does it for him: "Timing is a practical detail, and I agree. Now might not be the best time for them. I mean, does Misao even want to marry him just yet?" A pause. "Alright, stupid question. But it really might not be the best time."

Okon looks at the pair of them like they've gone insane.

Aoshi looks back. He doesn't bother to glare.

She must read something in his face. Okon looks away a moment, expression shuttering closed, and then she looks back to him. "Will you at least let me discuss the matter with her?"

He wants to tell her no. What lies between the two of them should be left to the two of them. Not meddled in for the sake of a cover story. But the life of a good leader is rarely about what he wants. He learned that lesson long ago. If he wants to reform the Oniwabanshuu, he'll have to live it.

Still. There may be a way to protect Misao. So instead of 'no,' he tells Okon: "Full disclosure. Do not attempt to sway her decision."

She looks surprised for a moment, before her lips curl again. He can see the  _I thought as much_  written in Okon's eyes, and doesn't answer.

* * *

The conversation happens sometime in the next wee; he can't pinpoint when. Misao, Okon, and Omasu make several excursions. He  _thinks_ Okon discusses her idea with the two of them on a trek to a shrine outside the city limits, because relations are cool between Omasu and Okon afterward. He doesn't think Misao notices, but he's not sure what Misao notices in that week; she drifts through the ryokan as if in a daze.

Okon is carefully nonspecific as to how the conversation went. She never explains the sudden distance that's sprung up between she and Omasu, either. It would seem he's not the only one who thinks the idea is cruel.

When Misao finally snaps out of her shock, she does so out of his sight. He hears the faint whisper of a deliberately louder footstep, and then the door to his temporary office slides open. Misao enters blithely, as if Okon hadn't been discussing marriage with her.

"Aoshi-sama? Has Okon talked to you about —" and here Misao pauses, takes in a shaky breath, "marriage?"

"Aa," he says.

"So it's true," she says, and shifts her weight where she stands, looking first at him and then away. "She said... she said it's all going to be staged?"

"To an extent." He pauses, trying to frame the nebulous warning instincts of a ninja in words someone not trained to paranoia could understand. "The Oniwabanshuu cannot afford my name on any official document."

That seems to amuse her a moment, until she realizes exactly what he's saying. "You mean give the priest a fake marriage certificate."

"And destroying it after."

She looks at him, meeting his eyes. He watches her brow furrow and mouth open, lips parting just a little. She doesn't need to say a word to beg him for an explanation.

"So it's not, it's not —" she stops, shakes her head, and looks at him again. "Is this what you want?"

"It's an option," he says.

"But is it what you  _want_?"

There's a fundamental misunderstanding here, he thinks. Aoshi watches her, unsure how to correct it. He could explain that recognizing this option is not about what he wants. But he knows how she'd respond.

"It's not," she says into the silence. "Then... we'll tell Okon it was a crazy idea —"

"Is it not what you want?"

She says nothing for a few moments. At length, she indicates one of the zabuton and he nods. At his nod, she sits, watching him with bright, intent eyes.

"Aoshi-sama, I can understand the fake wedding." She pauses. "But if I get married so publically, the rest of this town is going to expect something that looks like a marriage after that."

"Aa."

"And you're okay with that? With, with faking a wedding and pretending to be married? To me?"

He's no more content with the idea than she is. For once, he hates the pure pragmatism of a plan; Misao deserves better. He supposes he does, too. At least in this. And so he has no answer for her.

Almost no answer for her.

"I want to reform the Oniwabanshuu. I can accept necessity."

She has been serious, nervous, worried. But she recoils now as if struck, eyes watering, lips parting.

"Necessity," she says.

A poor choice of words. But she's already bowed her head. Her bangs drift to shadow her eyes. She won't be able to hear logic past the hurt.

For an instant, he hears nothing but the hammering of her heart. It beats furiously, as if seeking to escape her chest. He forces himself to look away, to focus on their surroundings again.

There's a second heartbeat outside the door. No footsteps. Okina, then; he has always excelled at concealing his movements about the Aoi-ya, where the other Kyoto Oniwabanshuu have been merely adequate.

The door slides open and Okina steps through. Aoshi watches his former mentor take in Misao's bowed head and his expression. The smile bleeds away from Okina's face.

"Misao-chan?"

"Did you hear?" She asks. "Aoshi-sama understands necessity." There's no mistaking the faintly bitter twist she places on the last word.

Okina gives him a look that tells him, quite clearly, that he's going to be making amends for that remark even if he actually marries Misao. Not to Misao herself, of course; she'd forgive him anything save betraying the family again. She's likely already forgiven him.

"Perhaps Aoshi-sama and I should discuss this matter alone," Okina says. The old man sounds blithe, but Aoshi catches a sharp undertone.

"Why? What can there possibly be to say to him about this that you can't say in front of me?"

Okina pauses, most likely recalling that Misao was raised amongst men with little concept of what a young girl's ears should hear and even less patience for censoring themselves to match.

Aoshi watches the moment tick by while Okina looks for a way to remind Misao of the concept that some things are between men. Certainly it would be impossible to convince her that any part of this conversation might not concern her — after all, it's about marrying her off.

When it's obvious Okina can come up with nothing, he intervenes. "Enough, Misao. We will discuss this later."

When she's gone and will not hear them, Okina steeples his fingers and asks, "Have you thought about asking her to marry you?"

Aoshi feels his eyes begin to narrow. He doesn't stop them. Okon's scheme has poisoned that well.

"I mean it, Aoshi. Make her a Shinomori, or become a Makimachi, or change your names to Kashiwazaki. She's not getting any older, and neither am I. I'd like to  _see_  my great-grandchildren, you know."

He can feel a headache coming on. "She is no relation to you."

Okina waves a hand, as if to dismiss a minor fact. "Tell her you want to marry her. Can you honestly say either of you would be happy with anyone else?"

"That's irrelevant."

"Not to her."

And, damn him, the old man is right. But emotionally blackmailing Misao into a course of action Aoshi is uncertain of? No. He owes them both better than that.

He should never have permitted Okon to talk to her about this.


	2. Chapter 2

For the most part, Kuro keeps his eyes on his assigned dishes — he handles the lighter dishes not involving fish, which are Misao-chan's, the palate cleansers, and the desserts — and lets the various dramas of the Aoi-ya pass him by. His life has been much simpler since he retired from active duty and he rather likes it that way. Which isn't to say that he won't leave retirement when Aoshi-san reforms the Oniwabanshuu. But really, he's been much happier without the drama.

The strange new tensions between Aoshi-san and Misao-chan, however, are all but impossible to ignore. Everyone else may have been awkard around Aoshi-san when he first returned, but Misao has been at his side and seemingly comfortable there from the moment they returned from Tokyo.

This sudden awkwardness, this sudden estrangement, is a direct shift in all the balances that make up how they all relate to each other. What's worse, even Omasu and Okon have been distant.

Honestly, Kuro half expects Shiro to suddenly develop a new personality and for them to start fighting.

But after the third night running that Omasu and Okon don't exchange a word of gossip during staff dinner and Misao-chan seems awkward in her seat next to Aoshi-san, Kuro doesn't think he can continue to ignore it.

Later that night, when Shiro steps outside the Aoi-ya for a quick break, Kuro follows. Misao-chan wails something about being left alone with a mountain of staff dishes, but from her tone, she actually doesn't much mind.

He's never heard of a woman  _liking_  to prepare fish or wash dishes, but Misao-chan certainly doesn't mind them.

"Do you have any idea what's going on around here? Omasu and Okon aren't talking, and now Aoshi-san and Misao-chan seem awkward around each other."

"Aoshi-sama listened to Okon," Shiro says simply.

Which actually  _almost_  tells Kuro everything he needs to know. He groans a little, then asks, "What did she suggest?"

Kuro groans again when Shiro tells him. It really does explain absolutely everything that's been happening. And it only gets worse:

"So now Aoshi-sama is... well, not happy, that's for sure," Shiro says. "You see what he did to that drunk right before dinner?"

Aoshi-san would never be so crass as to take his frustrations out on any of the staff. But drunken idiots who harass the women of the Aoi-ya? Kuro has no doubt that having some larger plan thwarted may have been in play when Aoshi-san dragged the latest offender out by force and threw him in the street.

Of course, it could have been that the words  _teach that girl to mind her place_  got tossed around. The only person deciding the  _place_  of an Oniwaban clan member is the Okashira. Throwing casual disregard for the girl in question and a dismissal of his position as Okashira, however unknowing, onto the fire of Aoshi-san's existing frustrations and protectiveness of Misao-chan...

Well. Kuro only heard the bone break in three places, and it's not like a simple tea supplier with three grown sons can't spare his left arm for a few weeks. Really, he doesn't blame Aoshi-san a bit.

It's just... a cause for concern.

"We can't go on like this," Kuro says. "It's just not right."

"No," Shiro says. Unfortunately, he follows it up with, "Oh no. I am not getting involved. This was one of  _Okon's_  schemes. We should just stay out of it and let things fix themselves. If we get involved, it'll just get worse."

"Before it gets better," Kuro points out.

"It'll get better anyway. No, I am staying out of this mess." With that, Shiro turns around and heads back in, washing his hands in the basin they keep next to the kitchen door.

Misao-chan has not touched the dishes. She is instead staring at them in something like horror, eyes wide and fists clenched. A flush has begun to spread its burn across her cheeks, not the usual pink but an almost painful-looking red.

Shiro looks to Kuro. Kuro looks back at Shiro.

"So, we'll handle the dishes," Shiro says, blithely. "You... just talk to Aoshi-sama, will you? You might be able to read him better than any of us, but he's got a lot on his mind right now."

Her fists clench even tighter and her eyes narrow. " _He's_  not talking to  _me_. He keeps saying that I've made my wishes clear and the subject is closed."

Shiro keeps his voice mild, reasonable. This is the  _talking to scary kunoichi with lots of knives_  tone. "Well, haven't you? You don't want to do the fake wedding thing, right?"

"I'll do what  _he_  wants! If he thinks that's best for this family and he doesn't mind the consequences, it's fine with me! I only don't want it if this is some chained-to-the-job thing." Misao-chan unclenches her fists, her eyes widening again as her anger dissipates, replaced by confusion. "Why is that so hard for him to understand?"

"So make him some tea and  _ask_  him to hear you out."

There's a moment of silence before she finally nods. "You're right, of course. Why are you and Kuro so sensible all the time? It makes the rest of us look crazy."

Shiro just laughs. Kuro can't help but grin, not that he'd fight it too hard. And even Misao-chan smiles at them for a moment before grabbing a tray and one of the less-important household use tea boxes. She's out the door in a flash, then right back in again for hot water. She bobs a quick bow as she leaves.

Kuro looks at Shiro. Shiro looks at Kuro.

"I thought you weren't getting involved," Kuro says.

* * *

One of Aoshi-sama's private quirks is that he hates tea that he hasn't seen prepared. If there is even the slightest thing wrong with it, it will be all he tastes. He's never said anything to Misao about it when she brought him tea she'd already made, but she's noticed his displeasure. Sometimes she feels like Shinomori Aoshi was the very first book she learned to read.

And he has to have noticed that everybody else has noticed the strange thing lying between them. He's very, very smart. He understands people even better than she does, and she spent years on the road learning very quickly how to tell when to trust, when to watch, and when to run or fight.

So she doesn't expect him to look so surprised when she knocks on his door with a kettle and her tea supplies. It's a fleeting expression, just a quick widening of his eyes, before he resumes his impassive look.

"May I come in?"

His gaze drops to the tea set for a moment before he steps aside. She moves immediately to the low table in the corner of the room, setting the tea box on the table and withdrawing its supplies with only a little care for their placements beyond the practical.

The tea is a backdrop, an excuse to talk. The conversation is what's important.

"I think we've maybe misunderstood each other," she tells him.

"Misao, this discussion is —"

"I'm  _asking_  you to open it again. Because I think we didn't understand each other."

He gives her a long look before seating himself across from her. She makes tea, each step and motion automatic. The movements are economical, functional, easy.

"So what did you mean by necessity? Are you saying it's something you loathe the idea of doing, but the job means you think you have to?"

That startles him. It's another quick flicker of his eyes. But he regains his composure almost instantly and says nothing. He stays silent while she finishes preparing the tea. Their heartbeats, their breath rhythms, her movements are the only sounds in the room.

He transfers his gaze to her hands and wrists when she pours. He accepts the tea, waits a moment, takes a sip. But he still doesn't say anything.

So Misao doesn't either. He's either marshaling his thoughts or weighing the pros and cons of kicking her out.

Either way, the quiet's going to break soon.

Except it doesn't. He drinks his tea without saying a word. It'd be annoying if it wasn't confusing. What's he even thinking? He's got to be thinking about  _something_ , he's _always_  thinking about something. Does he still think the subject is —

"The life of the Okashira of the Oniwabanshuu is not about what he or she wants."

"That doesn't make it all about what he  _doesn't_  want, either," she points out. "And you're obviously not about to insist that all of Kyoto thinks I married you if I don't agree to it."

"Aa," he says.

"Thought so." She pours him more tea, trying to gather her own words. After a moment, she asks, "Aoshi-sama... if this isn't something you hate the very idea of, then... Then I can live with it. I can live with —"

"You deserve better."

"Better than you? You know I don't believe there's such a person."

"Better than an imitation."

"Well, yeah..." She toys with the tea whisk, trying to sort her feelings.

Of course she wants more than some amazake-weak imitation of being married to Aoshi-sama. They both deserve better than that.

But more than that, more than anything — even more than she wants Aoshi-sama all to herself, even more than she wants to see his smile — she wants him to be happy. And if having a good cover story to rebuild the Oniwabanshuu would make him happy, if he could actually be happy while all of Kyoto thinks he's her husband, then... then...

There's no clean divide between "want this thing" and "do not want this thing." She doesn't even see a divide between "want this thing" and "want that thing." It's all — it's —

It's "want this thing a lot" against "want that thing even more."

And if Aoshi-sama will be happy, then she would gladly make that trade. Let go of the lesser wish to fulfill the greater one; pass by the river to visit the ocean.

She looks back up at Aoshi-sama. His lips are turned down in frown that's grimmer than usual, brows hooking — if only barely — in an expression that means he thinks she's about to say something he won't like.

Maybe she is.

"But I don't mind it, if you won't be unhappy."

He stares at her.

Misao pours him another cup of tea.

They say nothing. Time drags moments away slowly, as if the silence got its hooks in and doesn't want to let go.

At last Aoshi-sama seems to find a response, or maybe just breaks down and gives in to his initial reaction.

"Why?" He asks, voice soft but rough.

And so she tries to lay it out for him. It takes her a while — she  _feels_  feelings; she doesn't think them. She's not used to nailing them down in words, and she's certainly not as good at breaking things down as he is.

But she thinks, when the last attempt at words dries up, that he's got a good idea of what she was trying to say.

He looks down at the tea she's left on the table. By now it's begun to go cold. His eyes flutter closed and for a moment his features are not only fine but striking. Misao loses her train of thought.

At last, he opens his eyes and looks to her. But he says only, "I see."

His voice is flat, as if simply accepting new information.

And Misao thinks back to  _I can accept necessity_  and in its own way it's almost as bad as  _Never show your face to me again_.

She was only trying to help, only trying to step across this strange new gap between them. And now she suspects she's gone and hurt him.

"I'm sorry," she says, plainly. "I guess I should have just left this all alone."

"No," he says. He doesn't say anything else for a while, then adds, quietly, "Enough, Misao."

It's just two words, but she can hear the I need to think as plain as if he'd actually said it.

So she gathers her things and goes, bowing before she leaves the room. It's not the quick bow she uses with Jiya and Himura; it's slow, deep with the weight of respect. She holds it for just a moment longer than common courtesy would say she has to, then steps backward through the door and closes it.

* * *

Aoshi-sama doesn't say anything more to her about Okon's fake wedding idea. But he seems more relaxed around her the next day. She spends most of the day near him — or maybe  _he_  spends the day near  _her_. It seems like every time she turns around, Aoshi-sama is in the kitchen, or sitting in a corner of the tea room and watching her so intently she can feel it like heat on her back.  
By dinner, they're their usual selves. Well, their usual selves plus Aoshi-sama's staring.

Unfortunately, they're the only ones. Omasu and Okon are still basically ignoring each other. She can see it in the way they never make eye contact and the way they never really talk. It's not  _quite_  "Shiro, tell Okon to pass the pickled vegetables"/"Kuro, tell Omasu I don't have them" yet, but if this goes on much longer...

How sad. From what Misao understands, they've been friends all their lives. Certainly as long as anyone can remember.

She leans forward to grab a dish and lets her arm rub against Aoshi-sama's. It only lasts a heartbeat, but it still feels forward and invasive and she almost regrets it.

When he looks at her, as if asking why she felt she could touch him, she turns her head to look at Okon.

He looks at both Okon and Omasu, then back to her. His head dips in a brief nod.

So he reads her as well as she reads him. She thought he did, but it's nice to be sure. She can't help the smile that curves across her lips.

And she can't help but be delighted when his mouth softens just a bit in response to her smile.

* * *

Later, she takes him tea in his room again. Just like before, she prepares it in front of him.

Just like before, the tea's an excuse.

"Well, whatever we think of the idea, I don't think it's a good reason to stop talking to Okon," she says.

He lifts his cup to his lips, takes a deep sip. "And you propose...?"

"I have no idea. We can't exactly  _make_  them talk to each other. I guess I should talk to Omasu. I'm not sure why she's still so mad, anyway."

Aoshi-sama raises an eyebrow. Then he says, coolly, "You are quicker to forgive than most."

"You make it sound like a bad thing." That gives her pause. She poors him another cup, then asks, "It's not, is it?"

"Not often," he says. But his gaze has gone distant. He's thinking of something else, some other place or time.

Misao gets the sinking feeling that he's thinking back on the things he's done, the way he's hurt the family, and the fact that she forgave him for it. That she could still love him through all of it, that she still loves him now.

So she asks: "So was it just me or were you shadowing me today?"

"Aa," he replies.

"Why?"

But he shakes his head once. Apparently, he's still thinking something over.

So she gathers her things and leaves again. This time, she can feel him watching her go; his gaze burns along her skin, leaves her cheeks pink and her heart trembling in her chest.

* * *

The next day, someone leaves a bolt of silk for her with Omasu. It's bright, shimmering blue with embroidered with roiling waves at the bottom and seagulls along the top, where the shoulders would be if someone sewed it into a kimono. Misao can't help running her hands over the silk, eager to start sewing, even if she can't wear it in winter.

Omasu seems to like it, too. She runs her fingertips over the bolt of cloth and smiles at Misao.

"Who sent that?" Okon asks upon seeing it.

"Our usual silk merchant's son delivered it," Omasu says, automatically answering Okon. " _Someone_  bought it for our Misao-chan and didn't leave a name."

"Hmph. I knew he'd come around," Okon says, and Omasu rolls her eyes.

"I don't think it was Aoshi-sama," Misao says. He's never been interested in extravagant gifts — either giving them or receiving them. And he'd been watching her all day; when would he have had time to purchase her silk?

But it's good to see Omasu and Okon talking again.


End file.
